


hold me tight, or don't

by damedanbo



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Cheating, Hallucinations, M/M, Major Character Injury, Near Death Experiences, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 10:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13522095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damedanbo/pseuds/damedanbo
Summary: Another day goes by...While on a rescue mission to locate Caithe's squad, Alba Moonseeker and Canach are left stranded in the cliffs of the Silverwastes. Days pass without rescue, and the two struggle to survive and pass the time until rescue- or death.





	hold me tight, or don't

**Author's Note:**

> Set during "Caithe's Reconnaissance Squad." I always headcanoned that this was how it went down for Alba, and I finally got the courage to write it and post it. Ending to be resolved in a future fic!

A flash of pink and gold moved through the crowds at Camp Resolve, running, leaping, arms spinning as Thiiyf made her way towards the north gate. The cartographer had received a few nasty looks already as she knocked into others, stumbling over Charr feet, bumping into other Asura, and toppling over some sort of miniature model of an airship.

“Commander!” she called, shoving futilely at a Norn to get past them as quickly as possible. “Commander, wait for me!”

Alba Moonseeker turned at the gate, looking over his shoulder at the Asura. She stumbled to a stop in front of him, bent over with her hands on her knees, panting hard. “C-commander! I’m coming with you!”

Alba waited for her to catch her breath and straighten up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, as soon as Thiiyf was breathing normally again. 

“What?!”

“This is a rescue, not a scouting mission. It’s probably going to be dangerous.”

“So?! I can handle it!” Thiiyf unsheathed her sword, waving it around. Alba stepped back to avoid being skewered. “Don’t forget, I scouted Dry Top with you guys!”

“There are a lot more Mordrem here,” Alba warned. “If you come with me and can’t handle it, there’ll be no going back. You’ll have to wait for the next caravan headed back to camp…”

“I won’t let you down, commander!” Thiiyf said, taking that as an invitation. She sheathed her sword and ran towards the dolyak, which spooked and took off out the gate. Alba sighed, shaking his head. 

“Commander,” a voice called from behind him. Alba glanced over his shoulder at Trahearne, who stepped forward and clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Be careful,” Trahearne said softly, squeezing.

“I will,” Alba promised. “We’ll be back by tomorrow.”

“Commander!” Thiiyf screamed, “it’s getting away! Hurry!”

Alba groaned, pulling away from his lover to start off after the dolyak and his cartographer. Trahearne stared after him as he ran off into the desert, until a warmaster diverted his attention.

 

“How much longer,” Thiiyf groaned from atop the dolyak’s back. “We’ve been walking for ages!”

“It’s only been six hours,” Alba said without looking up.  _ And you’ve hardly walked for any of it.  _

“It’s been eight!” Thiiyf argued, leaping off the pack animal and jogging alongside the commander. She had rolled her pant legs up, exposing her speckled grey legs, skin tinged pink from the sun. Alba, wearing a long jerkin and leggings, along with high boots and gloves, had no such relief from the heat.His bright eggshell hair felt wilted and heavy, drooping in his face and tickling the back of his neck as they hiked up the slope.

“We must be close,” Alba said, “Trahearne said that Indigo Cave was just past the…” He came to a stop, staring up ahead at the landmark.

“What  _ is  _ that,” Thiiyf gasped, holding onto the end of his coat. 

“It’s enormous,” Alba said, walking past the dolyak towards the edge of the cliff. The gigantic vine reached over the path and into the cliffs to the south, writhing and glowing faintly. 

“This is what we’re up against?” Thiiyf gulped, staying near the pack animal.

“I fear this is only a small part of it,” Alba said, turning away from the vine. “Let’s keep going. Indigo Cave is close.”

The continued up the slope, Thiiyf and the dolyak giving the vine a wide berth. It was only as they neared the top that the sounds of battle drifted down to them; cannonfire and battlecries, the howls of Mordrem creatures in the distance.The dolyak stilled, deciding whether or not it would spook and run, as Alba took off towards the din.

“This really doesn’t seem to be our problem!” Thiiyf groaned, jogging after him.

Thiiyf caught up as they passed under a gigantic archway of natural stone. Indigo Cave appeared to be overrun, maybe just a few minutes from falling to the Mordrem. “Commander!” Thiiyf called as Alba pushed on ahead again, “I don’t think this is a good idea!”

The commander halted at the edge of a mob of Terragriffs and fired a mass of arrows into the air over them. Thiiyf sighed, flinging her sword into the mob and drawing her pistol to fire at a Mender healing its comrades. 

“Stay here!” Alba called, blasting an attacking terragriff backwards with his next shot, “I’m going to look for survivors!”

“Wha- hey, no, don’t leave me out here!” Thiiyf cried, flinging out mesmer clones to fight the encroaching Mordrem army. “Commander!”

Alba leapt over menders and mordrem wolves, using to his greatsword to swing the smaller beasts out of his way. The entrance to Indigo Cave had collapsed, and Alba ran up the back of a troll, leaping over the mass of rubble into the stronghold.

“Commander?!” Heads turned to look back at him, then faced forward again to continue the fight.

“Who’s in charge here,” he asked smoothly, landing on his feet and lopping the head off a mordrem wolf.

A Whispers agent answered: “Magister Wiggs- but he’s injured!”

“Then I’m taking over. Get those husks under control.” Thiiyf flipped over the rubble barrier into the encampment and landed beside him, awaiting orders. “Thiiyf, we need the wounded out of here. See if you can find a healer.”

“Aye aye, commander!” Thiiyf cried, darting into the fray.

Alba turned, drawing his bow again, and dove into battle.

 

“My feet hurt,” Thiiyf sighed, carrying an armload of rubble back to Indigo Cave. “How much longer?”

“We’ll leave when the stronghold is safe,” Alba said. “Not before then.” He glanced back at the Asura, caught her mid-groan, and smiled. ‘It won’t be much longer. We just need to take this rubble back to the supply officer.”

“And  _ then  _ we can leave?”

“Unless you want to stay for lunch.” A loud rumbling answered his suggestion. Alba dumped his rubble into the sand near the toppled wall, then turned to help Thiiyf lug her load of stone over.

“That should be enough,” the supply officer informed them. “We’ll have these walls up in no time. Thank you, Commander.”

“Let us know if there’s anything else we can do,” Alba said, even as Thiiyf dragged him by the jerkin towards the smell of cooking food.

They had a quick meal with the wounded as the north wall was rebuilt, sipping some kind of gritty soup with a side of bread that must have been half sand. “It’s not much,” Magister Wiggs said apologetically, “but we haven’t had a supply dolyak in almost a week.”

“It should be somewhere nearby,” Alba offered. “The Mordrem spooked it, but it can’t have gotten far.”

“I’ll send out a scouting party,” Wiggs said. “We need those supplies.”

“No kidding,” Thiiyf snorted, picking at her bread.

They left after lunch, by which time the wall was halfway reinforced and most of the wounded were walking again. Without a pack dolyak to climb on, Thiiyf dragged her feet behind Alba, groaning her complaints down to the sand.

“Do we even know where we’re going?” she asked after another four hours or so, after Alba had taken pity on her and slung her over his shoulder.

“Not really,” he admitted. “This area hasn’t been mapped. That’s sort of  _ your  _ job, you know.”

“Oh, pardon me, not doing my very important job while I’m  _ dying in the desert.” _

“Quiet,” Alba said. “Do you hear that?”

“Uh, have you seen my ears? If you can hear something, I can  _ definitely  _ hear it.”

“Then be quiet,” Alba said, setting her on her feet. 

“It’s just water,” Thiiyf said, rolling her crossed eyes, “it’s not like there anything to be afraid- wait, water! An oasis! We’re saved!”

The two of them ran towards the sound, feet slipping on the loose sand. Thiiyf reached the oasis first, sliding down the hill into the water and splashing it on her face. Alba hesitated, eyeing a brood of drakes across the oasis which eyed him back with malice.

“Oh, this is great!” Thiiyf said excitedly, “it’s so cool! Commander, get in here, take your boots off!”

“We need to keep moving.”

“But- but I could map this! It would be a valuable resource to the Pact!”

“That’s not why you want to stay and you know it,” Alba said, lifting her by the back of her robes and setting her wet shoes back on the sand. “We’ve got to find the scouting party and get back to camp.”

“You’re never any fun,” Thiiyf huffed, flipping her braid over her shoulder as she followed Alba back up the slope.

The next stronghold rose up near the oasis, so covered in vines it was nearly unrecognizable as any kind of remnant of civilization. The air around it hung heavy and green, reeking of some sort of poison. Thiiyf pulled her shirt up over her nose and mouth, squinting.

“Are they in there?” she asked, following Alba as he edged around the east side of the stronghold, avoiding the Mordrem gathered in the south.

“I hope not,” he said. “I somehow doubt we’d survive more than a minute in that fog.”

As they made their way carefully north, a mordrem husk came into view, collapsed on the sand. Thiiyf hung back, hand on the hilt of her sword, as Alba approached the downed creature.

“Is it alive?” she called from a safe distance.

“I’m not sure,” Alba said, reaching a curious hand out to touch the unmoving husk.

“Are you particularly fond of that arm?” an unfortunately familiar voice called from the shadow of the cliffs. 

“Canach,” Alba sighed, sounding almost disappointed to have found him.

“That husk is rigged to explode. Unless you want to be vaporized into a fine mist, I suggest you step away.” Canach stepped forward, into the sunlight, and Alba moved away from the husk. Thiiyf made her way over, grabbing onto Alba’s jerkin out of habit. They edged around the husk, towards the felon.

“You’re welcome,” Canach said, “oh- forgive me, you’re welcome,  _ Commander _ .”

“Oh you’d  _ better  _ call him Commander,” Thiiyf muttered, tugging Alba’s jerkin.

“Spare me the sarcasm,” Alba said, pulling his coat out of Thiiyf’s grasp. “Just show me which way Caithe was headed.”

“As you wish.”

“How did you know that Mordrem's remains were booby-trapped,” Alba asked as they headed into the northern passage.Thiiyf jogged alongside his long strides, hand on her pistol.

“ I set that trap myself, to dissuade enemies from following my dear sister's reconnaissance squad.” He paused, glanced at Alba and sneered. “Present company excluded, of course.”

“I'm not so sure we aren't enemies. You're a convicted felon.”

“I do wish you'd get over the past. Besides, we have a mission to finish. I can save you some time in tracking the recon squad, since I know which direction they were headed.”

“Let’s cook him,” Thiiyf whispered, gesturing with a finger gun. Alba shook his head.

“Lead the way, Canach.”

They followed the prickly Sylvari into the passage, passing through patches of light and shadow. The passage weaved in and out of itself, looping here, circling around there, making for a disorienting journey. Canach paused at the sight of the first mordrem husk and handed Alba what appeared to be some sort of incendiary device.

“What is this for?”

“Rig it to that corpse,” Canach ordered him.

“You do it,” Thiiyf said defensively, jabbing her little round claw at Canach.

“Little rat, I’d cook you up and eat you if I only had a skewer.”

“Enough,” Alba said, walking past both of them to attach the explosive to the corpse. “This had better work, Canach.”

The three of them ducked around the corner at the sound of approaching mordrem, waiting. Alba physically restrained Thiiyf to keep her from peeking as the patrolling beasts approached the corpse- and then the explosive went off, and the mordrem wolves yelped loudly, thudding to the ground. Canach looked particularly pleased with himself as he stepped out from behind the rocks. “Well? Are you coming?”

“It’s not gonna blow up again, right?” Thiiyf asked, tiptoeing around the corpses after him. Alba followed, silent.

They continued in a similar fashion; locating fallen mordrem, leaving explosives on their bodies, and then ducking into the shadows to wait for the next patrol. It was a wonder the mordrem never heard the explosions and came to investigate; perhaps it was that they just didn’t care about their fallen comrades. It was somewhat time consuming, waiting for the beasts to stumble into the incendiaries and blow themselves up, and the shadows in the passage slowly grew longer and longer as they pushed on.

They came upon a Whisper’s initiate’s corpse, blood staining the sand around them black. Alba crouched to feel for a pulse, then closed the corpse’s eyes. The wounds were fresh.

“Well, despite our best efforts to remain undetected, our friend seems to have attracted some unwanted attention. And here I thought the Order of Whispers was supposed to be sneaky.”

“Not the time, Canach,” Alba warned.

“Hold here,” Canach warned, putting a hand up. “If we’re sly, we can bypass the Mordrem. Around or through?”

“Around! Around!” Thiiyf hissed, tugging Alba’s jerkin rapidly.

“Around,” Alba said decisively.

Canach scoffed, leading them into the shadows again. They could hear the Mordrem passing by in the next passage, snuffling and growling, sometimes woofing, unable to locate the source of the scent of intruders. Soon, the sounds faded away, as the Mordrem moved on into the eastern part of the passage.

“It’s dangerous here,” Canach sighed. “Too many hiding spots and ambush locations.”

“Isn’t that what you prefer,” Thiiyf asked, “ambushing people?”

“Would have been nice if one of those choppers had been usable,” Canach continued, ignoring her entirely.

They crept the rest of the way through the passage, avoiding any more Modrem. By the time they left the crevices and tall rock formations behind, the sky was painted a rich red around the sinking sun. Canach stopped at the edge of the shadows, allowing Alba to overtake him. “There’s the squad.”

“Let’s go,” Alba said, taking the lead again.

“Welcome to the Silverwastes, Alba,” Caithe said as they approached. “I see you found Canach.”

“Lucky for me,” Alba said. “I was told you might need some extra help out here.”

“Nothing I couldn't handle, though I do appreciate the sentiment.”

“Has your squad found anything useful?” Alba asked. They appeared to be in good shape, aside from the agent who had been killed in the passageway.

“Not yet, though my instincts tell me we're close to finding the source of these Mordrem incursions.” Caithe’s instincts were often right, Alba knew.

“Let's see if we can prove you right,” he said, drawing his bow as Mordrem began to creep from the shadows. The squad armed themselves, falling into formation. 

“Judging from their increasing numbers,” Caithe said, “I'd say we must be getting close to something important”

“If so, I imagine they will be increasingly belligerent,” Canach said.

“Feel free to hide when the action starts, Canach.” She smiled sweetly back at him. Thiiyf snorted and Alba cracked a smile.

“Are you worried that I'll show you up, Caithe?” Caithe didn’t answer, already assured of her verbal victory over him. Canach scoffed.

Mordrem wolves squeezed their way out of cracks and crevices in the canyon walls; they slunk into the fading daylight, snarling and spitting at the squad. A particularly brave wolf lunged forward, teeth bared, and one of Caithe’s squad swung his sword into its head. The other wolves leapt into action, charging the squad. The fight was a flurry of violence; Thiify’s mesmer illusions blinked in and out of existence, chopping at the wolves, Caithe swung her daggers with pinpoint precision, never missing her mark, and Alba’s arrows struck true. 

“They’re increasing in number,” Caithe called, dancing over a dying wolf to reach her next target. “We’re close to learning what they’re up to out here. Let’s press forward.” Her squad started backwards up the slope, fending off Mordrem as they continued to arrive from the passage, husks and thrashers joining the fray. Thiiyf threw out a handful more mesmer clones and followed; Canach and Alba brought up the rear.

Soon the Mordrem were so thick and so many, the group was forced to retreat up the slope. “Alba!” Caithe called from the vantage point, “you’ll want to see this.” He hurried up after her, slowing to a stop beside his firstborn sister. Down in the valley, nestled into the cliffs, writhed a great mass of vines, as huge as the one he and Thiiyf had seen on their way to Indigo Cave. A strong, purple light glowed from within the mass, and Mordrem moved in and out of the natural fortress.

“A base of operations for the local Mordrem,” Caithe said softly, pondering.

“Do you see that glow?” Canach asked, rubbing his thorny chin.

“Yes,” Caithe said. “What could they be up to, all the way out here?”

“Little help!” Thiiyf cried, her clones flashing in and out of existence at a rapid speed.

“Right. We should consider retreating. We're deep in their territory and we're vastly outnumbered,” Canach said, descending down the slope to assist in the battle.

“We should send up a flare,” Caithe suggested, drawing a flare gun from one of the pouches at her waist.. “Hopefully the Pact will see our signal and send help.”

“Do it,” Alba agreed, firing an arrow into a Mordrem husk harassing Thiiyf. “Whatever it takes to get out of here.” Caithe nodded, loading the gun and raising it at arm’s length into the air. She pulled the trigger and the flare rocketed noisily into the sky, exploding in a flash of red. The attacking Mordrem took pause, watching the light, then continued their steady march forward. A fresh wave of wolves rushed out of the passage, dashing up the slope towards them.

“Oh, excellent,” Canach drawled, “you attracted more of them.” Caithe opened her mouth to say something in retort, but Canach cut her off. “We should relocate. We’re boxed in up here.”

“Meet them halfway,” Alba ordered, drawing his greatsword and pushing past the other Sylvari. The squad followed his lead, pushing the Mordrem back towards the bottom of the slope.

“Watch the vines,” Caithe called, as the aforementioned enemy swung over Alba’s head; he ducked just in time, swinging at the pest. Thiiyf, having slain a husk with Canach, rushed over and began hacking at it with her sword as well. For every inch they cut from the vine, two more of the beasts sprung from the sand and lashed at them, cutting their arms and faces. “Fall back!” Caithe commanded, “the vines will tear us apart!”

“There are too many of them. This location isn’t defendable,” Canach yelled back to her.

“Stand fast!” Caithe said, “help is on its way!”

“The Pact had better get here quickly, or there won't be anyone left,” Canach said, followed by the deafening roar of a small explosion that took out a handful of Modrem.

Over the din of the fight, the sound of metal hacking into fleshy plant matter, the cries of Mordrem pain and rage and the shouts of war from the squad, a new sound emerged; rhythmic and vicious, chopping away at the air. The dust picked up around them, swirling into the sunset. Caithe squinted back at the ledge and called out to the squad: “Everyone on the chopper, quickly!”

“The Charr finally got a chopper working,” Canach snarked, running up the slope after Caithe and her remaining squad. Thiiyf threw out a few mesmer clones at the husk she was working on and darted up after them, scrambling onto the chopper.

“Now or never, Alba!” Caithe called, and the commander turned, running up the slope towards the ascending chopper. He leapt towards it, reaching for the sides of the doors to pull himself in- and, as if it were happening in slow motion, saw the chopper pull away and the ground come closer and closer. He glanced back just before he slammed into the ground at the vine encircled around his leg, thorns digging deep into his flesh- and then there was a thud, and an even louder  _ snap  _ and a twisted pain in his leg that ran all the way down, from his groin to his toes, a sort of frigid, burning feeling that brought a scream up from his throat. The chopper pilot, unable to predict his downfall, was already pulling away even as Caithe and Thiiyf screamed at her to go back. 

It was Canach who braved the distance and leapt out of the chopper, rolling to a stop down the slope and tossing an incendiary into the Mordrem. It went off, killing a few and stunning more, and he took the opportunity to yank Alba’s leg free of the vine, which produced a sickeningly wet ripping sound as his flesh was torn wide open by the thorns.

“You look a little pale, Commander,” Canach said easily, throwing Alba’s arm around his shoulders and grabbing onto his waist. Alba tried to respond, muttering something unintelligible. He seemed to be going into shock- rather inconvenient.

He watched as if it were a dream as he was dragged away from the Modrem; more explosions, flashes of light and smoke that left his ears ringing more than they had been already. He blinked and found they’d moved 100 yards; blinked again and Canach had dropped him to fight off a husk and several wolves; blinked once more and found the Modrem were gone, and the sky was dark, and he couldn’t feel his leg.

Alba’s eyes widened and he lifted his head, finding Canach in the dark. The felon crouched next to him, treating his open, bleeding wounds with careful drips of water from his canteen. He glanced over and caught Alba watching him, and grimaced.

“This is going to hurt,” he warned, giving Alba no time to react before grabbing hold and snapping the Commander’s leg back into place.

Alba screamed, and fainted dead away.

He awoke, shaking and cold, and found himself alone. The realization was met with disappointment. Canach must have left him to return to Camp Resolve- or perhaps to run away into the wilderness to avoid Anise forever, whichever he decided. His jerkin was gone, he realized, though he located it quickly; torn into jagged strips of leather, it had been fashioned to bind his wounds. Alba couldn’t see or move it, but it burned, every inch of flesh and bone. Not being able to feel it might have actually been better. He’d almost rather have no leg than this.

If Canach was gone, he would be quick to die out here. Indigo Cave was several hours away on a good leg. If he didn’t run into any Mordrem or elementals, he might reach it within a day, if he didn’t die of infection or shock.

Alba rolled himself over with a groan, trying not to think about the throbbing ache in his left leg. If he imagined anything else, the pain would dissipate, he was sure. Pushing himself onto his hands and right knee, left leg twisted beneath him, he moved to stand. He was lightheaded, likely from blood loss, and balance was a bit tricky- but at some point, he was nearly vertical. Excellent. Now to walk.

He put his left leg forward and toppled over, cursing loudly at the night sky. Stars danced in his vision, blinking in and out of the darkness, and he was unable to tell which were real and which were from the intense pain of putting weight on his injuries.

He lay on his back for hours after that, staring into the cold night sky. He had learned the constellations years ago, as a sapling. There was Ventari and his tablet. The Pale mother, life eternal. There was a sylvan hound, dashing across the sky in hunt. Besides the Sylvari constellations- there was the Bear, the Snow Leopard, the Owl. Balthazar and Lyssa. In the north sky, Tixx and Toxx. He didn’t know any Charr constellations, but he supposed if he happened to meet one in the afterlife, he’d ask.

Did Sylvari even have an afterlife?

He tried not to think of the pain, or his friends, or his family. It was all too much for him to bear alone, and so he didn’t. He watched the sky gradually lighten, and wondered how far Canach had gotten. Indigo Cave at least, assuming he was headed that direction.

He lifted his head at the sound of rocks shifting on the side of the cliff, then lowered it. If it was a Mordrem here to kill him, he’d rather not look it in the eye before dying. 

“As if it could be anything else,” he murmured, mouth dry and cottony feeling.

A grunt from the side of the plateau, and Alba looked over again as Canach dragged himself to the top. He stood, black against the dawn sky, brushing sand off himself. “Oh,” Alba said, “thought you left.” His throat hurt.

“Can you stand?” Canach asked. Alba shook his head. Canach dropped to the ground next to him, procuring his canteen which sloshed with the promise of water. Alba reached for it.

“Wait,” Canach snapped, unscrewing the top. “I’m not going down to the oasis twice in one day. Here.” He held the canteen to Alba’s lips, allowing him a measured sip of warm, sandy water. It slid down his throat like heaven.

“Why didn’t you leave me?” Alba asked. Canach brought the canteen close again to distract him from the question, allowing him another drink.

The sun rose over them as they rested, sharing sips of oasis water. Alba soon began to feel the heat as the chill dissipated from the sandy ground under the rays of the sun.

“We should move,” Canach said. “It’s going to get hot soon.”

He closed the canteen and tucked it away, helped Alba sit up, and hauled him into an awkward, one-legged standing position. “Lean on me,” he said, and Alba took him up on the offer, draping an arm around his neck for balance. “Now, put some weight on that leg.”

Alba laughed. “No.”

“We need to get to the shade.”

“It’s still not going to happen.” Alba said. Canach huffed, shoving Alba sideways slightly; he landed on his left foot and yelped, picking it up again. Tears stung the back of his eyes.

“You’re enjoying this,” he accused the other Sylvari.

“Perhaps. That’s not the point,” Canach said. “If you don’t get to the shade, you’re going to roast, and I’m going to eat you to sustain myself until the chopper comes back.  _ That’s  _ the point.”

“You’re sick,” Alba spat, shoving Canach off and dropping back to the ground.

“Alright. Have it your way,” Canach said leaving him to sit in the shade of the cliff above. “By all means, you’ll show me.”

Alba scowled at him and lowered his head, beginning to drag himself forward. It was slow work. Canach offered no help as the sun beat overhead, hot and full in the sky now. Periodically, Alba lay his head down in the burning sand to rest a while, shaking from the pain and exertion. To think, the Pact Commander, reduced to a quivering mess by a silly broken bone. Oh, the shame.

When he finally reached the edge of the shade, Canach moved forward and grabbed his wrists, pulling him into the shadows of the outcrop. Alba rolled, shaking, onto his back, dragging his leg into the shade too. 

“You think the chopper will return soon?” Alba asked, looking over at the other Sylvari.

Canach snorted. “With their dear Commander missing out here? Of course they’ll send another chopper.”

“How will they find us?”

“You should sleep. Your body needs time to heal.”

Alba blinked at him. “You don’t really know, do you. If the chopper’s coming back.”

“Nobody knows anything. Go to sleep.”

The commander sighed, turning his head away and closing his eyes. He was tired, after laying awake half the night waiting to die. A little nap wouldn’t kill him…

Canach leaned over to check on him a while later and found him in a deep sleep. He sighed, turning away to watch the unchanging desert landscape.

 

When Alba awoke, Canach slept. They passed the afternoon like this, taking turns sleeping and keeping lookout. While Canach slept, Alba mended his bow, broken in the heat of battle, and when he slept, Canach fiddled with his mines. The sun burned into the cliffs, melting the air until it splashed on the sand like glimmering ocean waves. In the mid afternoon, Alba woke again, and Canach stayed awake with him, looking out over the Silverwastes.

“It’s a wonder none of the Mordrem have made it up here,” Alba said after a while. His throat ached, dry and scratchy. They’d run out of water hours ago.

“Don’t invite them,” Canach warned. “If a thrasher manages to reach us, you’re going to die, and I’m going to have to explain to Trahearne and Anise why I let it kill you.”

“So you wouldn’t run off into the jungle and escape your responsibilities?” Canach stared at him quizzically. “I just thought, given the chance, you’d be more likely to disappear than to return to the Pact…”

“And you spent a lot of time thinking about this, I presume?”

“Not a  _ lot,”  _ Alba said, somewhat defensively.

Canach was silent after that, though Alba longed for more conversation. At dusk, two Mordrem wolves dragged themselves up the cliff face to the plateau and charged them. Canach bombarded them with mines while Alba plucked weakly at his half-mended bow, scattering arrows all over the plateau. Canach dutifully collected them and returned them to him before leaving at nightfall to collect more water.

Alba slept on and off, exhausted from his injuries but too jumpy to sleep deeply. During his waking moments, he lie slumped against the rock face, breathing deeply to try to ignore the pain. When he slept, dreams of his friends and his lover flitted in and out of memory, always too dim and grainy to see clearly. He recalled things from the Dream that he’d forgotten, and would forget again when he woke, just out of his grasp.

“Drink,” Canach said, waking him just before dawn with the canteen.

He drank, but the sips Canach allowed him were nowhere near enough to satisfy his thirst. He burned with fever and shook with chills, suffering through cold night and burning hot day.

They sat in silence for the first few hours, sharing miniscule sips of water and watching the sun rise up over the plateau. Alba was starting to hate the desert, he realized. He hated the heat, the thick, heavy air, and the gritty sand that snuck past his leather bandages into his wounds. He hated the grimy taste of the water, the neverending sandscape, and most of all, the steady stream of Mordrem. If they could just eliminate the hive beyond the valley and be done with this whole habitat, he’d never feel reason to complain again.

Canach broke the silence, surprising him out of his grouchy stupor. “What is the first thing you want to eat when we return to Camp Resolve?” Canach asked, staring off into the distance at the hazy shape of the land.

Alba turned and stared at him. He had been treated to many delicacies over the past few years as Commander of the Pact. He’d attended plenty of fancy parties at Lion’s Arch and Divinity’s Reach, politely trying countless foreign foods that left strange tastes on his palate. It was likely that they would offer him anything he wanted when (if.) they returned, any luxury he so desired…

“Trahearne’s mushroom soup,” he said longingly, looking off towards the neighboring cliffs. Canach pulled a disgusted face.

“Such a disappointing answer, from such a disappointing commander.”

“What are you going to eat?”

“Filet mignon, doused in caviar, with the oldest, most expensive wine they can find.”

“You have expensive tastes,” Alba said. 

“Not really. I can’t stand caviar.”

“Ah. You just want to waste the Pact’s resources.” Alba smiled, tilting his head down and letting his eyes fall shut. His leg burned and ached. The sensation had become a part of his day; wake up, pain, drink, pain, pain, pain, pain, sleep. Even in his dreams the feeling chased him, slicing him open in memories of Orr, of Caledon, of the Grove and the Dream. Talking to Aeris in the Brand, he looked down and found his leg missing at the knee, and woke up sweating. Was that what he was afraid of?

Canach was saying something. “Hm?”

“Your favorite wine.”

“I don’t know,” Alba said. “Dreamberry.”

“Hm. You’re a cheap date.” Canach closed his eyes, leaning against the rocks at their back, head tipped back just enough to keep his eyes out of the sunshine.

“Canach?” Alba asked after a long, sweltering silence. His lips hurt, cracked and chapped from the hot, dry air and the burning sun.

Canach grunted softly.

“Why did you come back?”

The prickly Sylvari cracked one eye open, staring him down.

“When you left me that first night… Why return? You could have gone back to Camp Resolve. You’d have made it.”

“And you wouldn’t have.”

“I’m resilient,” Alba assured him.

“With all due respect, though I’m sure there isn’t much: you were dying.”

“You wanted to save me?”

Canach opened and closed his mouth. He hmm’ed softly, closing his eye again. “It would be a shame to let such potential go to waste. And I’m sure Anise would have skinned me if I’d come back and left you here.”

Alba smiled, leaning over to look at him. “Are you and Anise-”

“I know what you’re going to ask, and we’re not.”

“Ah.”

“I can’t stand the shrew.”

“You shouldn’t say that about her.”

“Spare me the lecture.”

Another silence stretched between them, somewhat comfortable after the banter. “How does your leg feel?” Canach asked after a while. Alba glanced down at the leather-bound appendage.

“Terrible,” he decided.

“We should clean your wounds,” Canach said, “lest the dear Commander lose his leg and spend the rest of his days hobbling Tyria.”

Alba smiled. “You think we’re going to make it?” Canach looked at him.

“I know I am.”

“Ouch.”

“Let me see your leg.”

Canach moved over in front of Alba, blocking out the sunlight, and began unwrapping the cracked leather from his broken leg. Alba winced with every touch, soon biting his tongue to keep from making any more embarrassing sounds as Canach reached the bottom layer of impromptu bandages. Golden blood- old, dry flakes crusted onto the leather, and the ooze of fresh blood- dripped onto the sand from his wounds, and Alba looked away to avoid seeing the state of things.

Finally, Canach peeled the last layer of leather strips off of his leg, leaving only his torn leggings, tangled in the mangled gashes on his thigh and knee. Alba couldn’t help but to glance at it, and felt immediately worse. The wounds were definitely infected, black with some sort of sickness, strings of fabric stuck to his open flesh where his leggings had been torn into and fallen apart. Canach muttered something that might have been a curse, or a prayer, and reached for Alba’s waistband.

“Canach-”

“Is this really the time to be shy?” Canach asked, pulling the ruined leggings down to around mid-hip. 

“Don’t,” Alba warned.

“Do you want to lose your leg? Because this is how you lose a leg.”

“I’ll wait for a mender.”

“If you don’t let me clean it, you’re going to die long before you see one.”

They started at each other for a long, tense moment, each too stubborn to yield. Finally, Alba looked away and closed his eyes, signalling his surrender, and Canach began to try to peel the leggings off of him. He expended some effort carefully tugging the pants down Alba’s legs, then eventually thought better of it, and began cutting the fabric away from his ruined thigh. “I’d promise not to nick you, but I’m not sure it would do any harm at this point,” Canach teased, tearing away a bloodied strip of fabric that tore away with a trailing chunk of flesh.

Alba didn’t answer, too dizzy and weak to retort. Soon, only the fabric on the backside of the pants was left, and Canach paused, trying to work out a way to remove it without bringing him too much suffering.

“Do you care how I-”

“Please just get it over with,” Alba begged.

The wounds on the back of his knee were in no better shape, black and oozing gold over his pale skin. Alba shook as Canach peeled away the fabric stuck to his wounds, then began pouring precious water over the damaged skin. 

“You’re wasting it,” Alba whispered, feeling himself nearing tears from the pain.

“There’ll be more,” Canach promised.

He cleaned Alba’s wounds with a bloodied handkerchief he claimed to have stolen from Countess Anise, dabbing at them delicately with the warm, dirty water. Alba groaned, too overcome to silence himself any longer. A hand patted his head, then returned to its work.

When Canach was finished, Alba lay naked and shaking, eyes closed and teeth clenched to keep from vomiting as he tried desperately to keep his leg off the hot sand. “How does it look?” he asked, knowing he didn’t want to hear the answer. Canach was quiet a moment, carefully considering his words.

“Painful,” Canach said finally, looking away. “I’m sure it hurts a lot.”

Alba laughed shakily, holding back tears. “It does.”

“You’re going to die, Alba.”

“I know.”

“You need a mender, and I’m a shoddy substitute.”

Alba was silent, biting his tongue. Silent tears streaked his face.

“I’m going to find help,” Canach said decisively. “There’s got to be a caravan or a scouting party nearby; I’ll find them and bring them to you.”

_ Leaving me,  _ Alba thought. Oh, Mother, he was going to die alone.

He wasn’t sure whether or not he slept. Fever blended dream with reality; he withered and burned in the sun, then shook with chills that left him immobile. Thiiyf climbed up the cliffs and danced into his vision, too far for him to reach, as if she were taunting him- then leapt over the side into the valley and disappeared. Trahearne approached, saying something terribly important, his voice so distorted, Alba couldn’t hear. Alix, blessed healer, what he wouldn’t do to see her now, soaked him in a torrent of water that left him drenched in sweat, but in no better condition. “Are you free, Commander?” shy Tzuuya asked, pulling his leg apart, unravelling it like a vine, like the vines that strapped across Tyria, like a Mordrem monster pulled apart at the seams, appendages flailing and dying, curling dead in on themselves and rotting up to his core. 

“...couldn’t find anything,” Canach said, standing over him. “Here.”

“Commander?”

“Drink.”

“Commander.”

“Alba!”

He came out of it to find he was choking on the water, and swallowed it with some difficulty. “Finish it,” Canach ordered him, and Alba forced most of the water down his sore throat, leaving his stomach full and aching.

“Are you with me?” Canach asked, and he nodded woozily.

“Try not to die before we get back to camp,” Canach warned, and he tried to force a smile.

The last day was the hottest.

Even Canach, able to drink his fill at the oasis before returning, was left dizzied in the heat. For Alba, it was much worse. His head pounded and ached, and the world spun around him. Visions crawled out of the heat of the desert. Risen, rotting and dead, walked out of the sky towards him, dragging their feet. They spotted him and broke into a run, and Alba cried out, grabbing for a weapon. Canach grabbed his arm, holding onto him.

“Try to sleep, Commander,” he advised.

Alba slept.

At dusk, he woke, staring at the rock shelf that jutted out above them. His eyelids were so heavy. Everything was so heavy. It would be so easy to drop it all and let go. It would be so nice to have nothing left to carry, no one left to hold onto. It would be so easy.

“Drink,” Canach said, handing him the canteen again. Alba drank the remains quickly, and vomited onto the sand immediately.

“Commander,” Canach said, hand on his back. Alba laid his head down in his sick and Canach swore, pulling him back. “Think of Hoelbrak, commander. Snow and ice everywhere and more Norn than you can shake a sapling at.”

“Eir,” Alba murmured.

“Yes, her.”

“Braham…”

“Him too, I’m sure.”

Alba lay still and silent awhile, too exhausted to speak anymore. Canach held onto him tightly.

“Mother, let him live.”

_ Canach,  _ he tried to say, but even his tongue was too heavy to move. He was left with saying nothing.

Not long after, he felt himself being moved, into a sitting position against the cliff face, then hefted upwards, bent forward in a piggyback position. Mother bless Canach, he was still trying to save him. What good would that do him? “Hang on, Commander,” Canach said, and he began to walk.

Alba came to a couple of times on their way down the cliffs. He found himself too cold and numb to move, but thought that ultimately, the sensation was quite pleasant. To give up was quite the feeling. Being carried to his grave- he didn’t mind it so much. He was jostled and jolted as Canach made his strategic leaps of faith down into the passage, passing almost silently over unsuspecting Mordrem patrols. 

_ I don’t want to be buried out here,  _ Alba decided.  _ I hate the desert. _

The jungle would suit him better, he decided. Lush and green and full of life. That was where they should leave him to decompose.

er

mmander

commander

wake up

_ No, thank you. _

“Commander, you have to wake up.”

_ No, I’m dying. _

“You stubborn brat.” He heard the slap rather than felt it, then another to his other cheek. Canach shook him. “Wake up, you waste of space.” Water, splashed on his face, and Alba coughed, lifting his head and slowly cracking open his eyes.

“You’re alive,” Canach said breathlessly. “For fuck’s sake, you’re alive.”

“Where are we?” Alba asked. The sun was gone, and the sky shone white with the speckle of stars. “I thought-”

“Drink,” Canach said, shoving the canteen into his hand. He helped the commander sit up on the rock and Alba drank slowly, letting each sip settle in his stomach before trying again. When he finished, Canach filled it again.

The oasis. To think they had made it all the way there in one night. Alba handed the canteen back to Canach and lay back again, too exhausted to sit up any longer. 

“Think again,” Canach said, dragging him off the rock and into the water.

Sinking into the cold water was simultaneously the best feeling and the most painful treatment Alba had experienced to date. He hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. He could smell the blood, as could the brood of drakes, which wandered close occasionally to try to take a bite. Canach warned them away with a mine and got back to work. He was no mender, but he handled Alba with the care of one, hands touching gently the sore, open gouges in his flesh, trickling cool water into his wounds.

As the dawn crept up on them, they lay on the rock again, waiting for the sky to lighten. “Canach,” Alba said, breaking a long record of silence. “Thank you for saving me.”

“It was nothing.”

“No. You saved my life.” Alba turned his head to look at the other Sylvari. “I owe you everything.”

“You’ll repay me in gold soon enough.”

“Canach… I really misjudged you. I’m sorry.”

Canach took pause, mouth open to make a snarky retort. “I’m not surprised, Commander,” he said finally. “Your judgement is terrible.”

It was a weak joke, a lame response, but neither of them could help their laughter. Canach tipped his head back and Alba quaked, and it wasn’t until their laughs died down into giggles and chuckles that the two of them moved closer and pressed their lips together.  _ Oh, wow,  _ Alba thought,  _ he really is quite prickly _ as Canach’s thorny mustache brushed against his own upper lip. Canach moved closer, climbing over him- careful not to touch his broken leg, only straddling the right- and Alba wrapped his arms snugly around the other Sylvari’s shoulders, holding him close. Their mouths fit together so nicely, despite their differences, and when Canach flicked his tongue over Alba’s lower lip, he could help neither the jolt of arousal, nor the terrible crushing weight of guilt that came over him.

Hiding an erection was no easy task when fully exposed to the elements, and as his foliage lifted away, his cock pressed into Canach’s thigh. Alba at least had the presence of mind to be mildly embarrassed by it and start planning an apology, until Canach grabbed hold of his prick and began to stroke it, careful again for his hand not to touch Alba’s thigh. Alba groaned into his mouth, letting his tongue in, and Canach stopped touching him for a briefest, longest of moments to pull himself out of his armored pants and begin rubbing them both together. Canach’s cock was barbed around the head, a few dull thorns here and there like piercings, and Alba thought it would ache so good going into him. 

He was delirious at this point, too jumbled to get his thoughts straight as Canach frotted against him.  _ Good, good, good  _ and  _ more, please,  _ he thought over and over again, kissing Canach hard and willing him to touch him more. His leg ached and throbbed as Canach’s calf pushed against it but he ignored the pain, eyes rolling back as if to prepare for his final moments, and as he came, he felt that guilt again, at having betrayed Trahearne in his last day on Tyria- but oh, what fun it had been, he thought happily, as Canach finished on his stomach.

Canach, coming down from his own high, stayed atop him, breathing hard and pressing their foreheads together. Alba cracked his eyes open to find Canach’s eyes closed, face flushed a lovely shade of dark green. He wondered if there was any heaven kind enough to let him have them both, Trahearne and Canach, if only for a moment longer. Canach’s hand in his hair was the only thing keeping him from floating away at this point. If he needed live a moment longer to keep feeling that sensation, then he would hang on.

Neither of them spoke. Canach climbed off and lay silent beside him, still breathing a little raggedly. They lay like that, legs touching, hands almost, not quite touching, drifting back into exhaustion. The cum on Alba’s stomach felt so cold, all of him felt so cold, and he closed his eyes to the sensation. Let tomorrow come and be another day, let us die in the daylight, but not quite yet.

 

It was the same sound as before, but he couldn’t quite place it. Loud, yes. The vibrations shook the air and the earth, and the water quaked in its basin. Each spin of the blade swung hard into the resisting sky, thud thud thud  _ chop chop chop chop chop. _

_ Oh, there they are,  _ Alba thought, half asleep and unwilling to open his eyes. Well, they’d taken their time. He supposed it must have been hard to get back out there, with all the Mordrem and the-

Chopper. The-

“Canach,” he gasped, eyes flying open. “Canach, the chopter- the Charrper- the-”

“The chopper!” Canach cried, jolting upright. He looked to the sky, off in the distance where the chopper beat at the air, hovering over the far cliffs, searching. He looked over at Alba, glanced at the mess on his stomach, and snorted. “Well, don’t you look pretty for your rescue.”

“Lend me your clothes.”

“Absolutely not.” Canach stood, climbing off the rock and splashing through the water towards the mouth of the oasis. “I’ll flag it down!”

It was probably at this point that Alba realized he’d spent the better part of a week nude, or mostly nude. It was hard to feel especially ashamed about being found in this state, considering the circumstances- even so, he scooted his way into the water and cleaned the mess off his belly, cursing Canach under his breath the whole time. 

There was a scream, a familiar voice, from far away, and Alba lifted his head, watching the end of the oasis. Thiiyf came charging in, tears streaming down her face, and flung herself at him. It was lucky that Alixandira was not far behind, and was able to grab her and restrain her.

“Honestly, you’re worse than his poor cat,” Alix said, physically holding Thiiyf back as she sobbed and hollered her relief. “By the Six, I can’t believe you’re still alive. You look like hell, Commander.”

“C-c-commander!” Thiiyf sobbed.

His Jaguar came bounding in after them and paused a few steps away, sniffing around his wounded leg. It moved closer, sniffing his face, then covered his cheek in big rough cat kisses. Canach brought up the rear, looking remarkably haggard now that Alba saw him next to well-hydrated, well-rested people again.  Alix dropped Thiiyf into the water, where she sat blubbering to herself over Alba, and drew her staff. A flash of cool blue water enveloped Alba, and he collapsed, sinking into the water. He was out for the count.

He was mildly aware of Canach carrying him back to the chopper, as Alixandira led the way and Thiiyf and the big cat followed. 

He was not aware of being lifted into the chopper, but felt it take off. The numbing spell left him just woozy enough to enjoy Canach’s hand carding through his leafy hair, knowing it would be the last physical contact they ever had. He tried to enjoy it with that knowledge.

And he slept.

 

The mender at Camp Resolve took one look at them and ordered everyone out of the tent. Alba was laid on a cot while Canach stubbornly stood, watching her administer treatment. She clucked the whole time,  _ tsk tsk tsk _ ing and dabbing a salve into Alba’s wounds that burned and burned and burned and then turned cold as ice. He tried not to writhe too much.

“I suppose this means we’re going to live,” Canach said to Alba as the mender stuck an intravenous needle in his arm. Alba opened his eyes slowly and smiled at him, and Canach looked away. 

“Commander!” Trahearne cried from the entrance to the tent. “Oh, I thought I’d lost you, bless the Pale Mother.”

“I’m in here too,” Canach informed him. Trahearne knelt by Alba’s cot, laying his head down on his lover’s chest- probably the closest to public his displays of affection had ever been.

“Right,” Canach said, “I’ll take my leave, then.”

“Canach,” Trahearne said, lifting his head and wiping his wet eyes, “you have my eternal thanks for your service to the commander. The Pact owes you a great debt of gratitude.”

“And I expect I’ll collect on that soon,” Canach warned. He nodded at Alba. “Commander.”

Alba gave him a little wave, still tingly from Alix’s numbing spell. 

“Oh, give him space,” the mender scolded, shooing Trahearne away so that she could resume work. Trahearne moved, standing nervously at the mouth of the tent, watching her treat his lover. 

“My leg,” Alba said, when he felt clear-headed enough to speak.

“You’ll keep it,” the mender said. “It’s never going to heal right, but you won’t lose it. I’ll make sure of that. You, Marshal, bring him something to eat.”

“Yes, of course!” Trahearne cried, ready to help and eager to please. He ran from the tent, and Alba watched through the flaps as the Marshal disappeared around a corner.

The mender left him for a moment, and no sooner had the tent flap closed than it was open again. Thiiyf peeked inside, looking positively crestfallen. Alba beckoned her closer, and she wasted no time in running to his side and grabbing onto his dangling arm to hug him.

“Oh, Commander!”

“Ow.”

“I’m so sorry! I should never have gotten on the chopper before you; if I’d only waited I could have stayed with you, and helped you! I-!”

“You would have been hurt too, Thiiyf,” Alba said gently. His head was starting to ache.

“But- but I could have-!”

“Your skills were  _ necessary  _ in locating Canach and I. Without you, they wouldn’t have known where to look for us.” Thiiyf started up at him, wide eyed, tears streaking her speckled grey cheeks. “You are an absolutely essential part of the Pact, Thiiyf. You’ve helped save my life.

She started bawling at that, fat globs of tears trailing down her face and dripping onto his arm. Alba smiled, reaching over with his other arm to pat her soft hair and let her cry it out.

It was a long while before either of them spoke again; Thiiyf sniffled and hiccuped for a long time, then pulled away to blow her nose on a filthy handkerchief. “It m-must have- must have been r-reeeally hard being out there all alone with C-Canach… bet you almost went n-nuts,” Thiiyf said finally, wiping her face on the terrible rag. Alba smiled adoringly at her.

“I don’t think it was so bad.”

“Lucky for you… you probably don’t have to see him ever again.” Thiiyf beamed at him. Alba looked away.

“Right. How lucky.”


End file.
